Queen Matilda’s destination had been determined by her brother before her release was assured. Matilda had herself petitioned that she might be allowed to return to England, and live the rest of her life among her own people; but this natural request was refused. The King at first was inclined to grant it, and, if the Princess-Dowager of Wales had been alive, no doubt it would have been granted. But Queen Charlotte, who had always shown the greatest jealousy of the King’s sisters, and had quarrelled fiercely with the Princess of Brunswick, displayed the bitterest animus against the unfortunate Matilda, who surely could have given her no cause of offence, for she had left England when a child of fifteen. It is probable that the King’s harsh judgment of his sister, and his slowness to intervene on her behalf, were instigated by Queen Charlotte, who now shrilly opposed the idea of Matilda returning to England. Her rigid virtue rose in arms at the bare suggestion of such a thing; she declared that she would not receive her sister-in-law; that her presence at court would be an insult; that she would contaminate the young princesses, her daughters, and be to them a bad example. Queen Charlotte had her way, for the King did not venture to stand up against the tempest of her virtuous indignation. He then thought of sending his sister to Hanover; there were three empty palaces there, and his Hanoverian subjects would be sure to receive her kindly. But Queen Charlotte opposed that too: Hanover was too gay a place, she said, for one who ought to hide her head from all the world; and at her instigation her brother, Prince Charles of Mecklenburg, who commanded there, raised objections also. The idea of sending Matilda to Lüneburg was out of the question, for there was no house there, and it was too near the frontier of Denmark. So at last the King decided upon Celle as the most suitable place for his sister to find a refuge. True, Prince Ernest of Mecklenburg-Strelitz commanded the garrison, another of the Queen’s brothers (Queen Charlotte provided for all her needy relatives at the expense of her adopted country), but he was young and unmarried, and offered no objection. On the contrary, he looked forward to the advent of the Queen as a break in the monotony of Celle. To Celle, therefore, it was determined she should go.
Celle was an old town in the King’s Hanoverian dominions, about twenty miles north of Hanover. It was formerly the capital of the Dukes of Brunswick-Lüneburg, and the town was dominated by the magnificent castle where they formerly held their court.[69] The last Duke of Celle was George William, brother of Ernest Augustus, first Elector of Hanover and the father of George I. of England. George I., then the Hereditary Prince of Hanover, married his cousin, the only daughter of the Duke of Celle, the unfortunate Sophie Dorothea. At Duke George William’s death he became, through his marriage, possessed of the dukedom of Celle, which was merged into the electorate of Hanover. Since the death of Duke George William in 1705, there had no longer been a court at Celle, and the importance of the town had waned, while that of its rival, Hanover, had increased, though Celle still remained a seat of justice, and a garrison was quartered there. The castle as a place of residence needed many things to make it habitable. George III. now gave orders that it was to be thoroughly repaired, and a suite of apartments re-decorated and furnished for his sister, and rooms prepared for the accommodation of her household.
[69] The ancestors of the royal families of England, Germany (Prussia) and Hanover all lived at Celle.
Keith carried to the imprisoned Queen the tidings of her deliverance early in May. It was with feelings of triumph and gladness that he hastened to Kronborg to inform her of his success, and the King of England’s plans for her future welfare. As he wrote to his sister: “To demand the liberty of a captive Queen, and to escort her to a land of freedom is truly such a commencement of my chivalry as savours strongly of the romantic. You will easily judge of the warmth of your brother’s zeal in the execution of a commission so well adapted to his genius. Can you figure to yourself what he must have felt in passing through the vaulted entrance of Hamlet’s castle to carry to an afflicted and injured princess these welcome proofs of fraternal affection and liberty restored?”[70] His emotion was reciprocated, for, when Keith came into the Queen’s chamber and told her the glad news, she burst into grateful tears, embraced him, and called him her deliverer. The gallant soldier could have had no better reward.
[70] Memoirs and Correspondence of Sir R. Murray Keith, vol. i.
It was Keith’s duty and pleasure now to inform the Queen that she was no longer to consider herself a prisoner, but was merely residing in the King of Denmark’s palace of Kronborg until such time as the English squadron should arrive to escort her to her brother’s Hanoverian dominions with every mark of honour and respect. He also told her of the other concessions he had obtained for her; he had wrung almost everything from her enemies except a proclamation of her innocence. On this delicate subject the Queen is stated to have said that she found some consolation in the thought that time would clear her character. “I am young; I may, therefore, perhaps live," said she, “to see Denmark disabused with respect to my conduct; whereas my poor mother, one of the best women that ever lived, died while the load of obloquy was heavy upon her, and went to her grave without the pleasure of a vindicated character.”[71] Throughout her imprisonment at Kronborg Matilda had worn black—“in mourning,” she said, “for her murdered reputation”.
[71] General Evening Post, May 14, 1772.
Though Keith brought to Matilda the news of her deliverance early in May, it was not until the end of that month that the Queen left Kronborg. During that time she saw the English envoy almost every day, though he, too, like herself, was making preparations for departure. She was no longer treated as a prisoner, but rendered all the honour due to her rank, and she was free to wander within the outer walls of the fortress as she pleased—a very large space. The Queen’s favourite walk was on the ramparts in front of the castle, where she would often pace for hours together, straining her eyes across the grey waters of the sea to catch the first glimpse of the British squadron which was to take her away from Denmark. She declared that until she beheld the British flag she would not feel herself safe. The Queen-Dowager was now quite as anxious to get Matilda out of Denmark as she was to go, and to this end agreed to almost everything suggested by Keith, and in some respects even went beyond his suggestions. Matilda had a great many jewels, which were not the property of the Danish crown, but her own. Some of them she had brought with her from England; others had been given her by the King, her husband; some she had purchased with her own money. All of these had been seized by Juliana Maria, together with the Queen’s clothes and her personal possessions. When Matilda was first sent to Kronborg she had little or nothing beyond the clothes she wore, but little by little, grudgingly, things had been sent her. Now the Queen-Dowager volunteered to send Matilda the jewels which King Christian had given her; but the wronged wife rejected the offer with disdain. She would take no favour she said; she wished to have nothing to remind her of the husband who had repudiated her, or the country which had treated her so cruelly; as a British princess she would retain none of the trappings of her Danish slavery. The question formed a subject of despatches, and Lord Suffolk wrote to Keith as follows: “His Majesty does not see any objection to his sister receiving the jewels you mention, which were formerly given, and are now intended to be delivered to her. Her Danish Majesty will thereby only retain a property, not accept a present. There seems no occasion for rejecting the attention voluntarily offered; but, if the Queen of Denmark is very averse from the proposition, his Majesty does not wish to control her inclination.” The Queen was very averse, and so the offer was rejected. But Matilda requested that her personal trinkets which she had brought from England, and her books, clothing and other things, left scattered about in the King of Denmark’s palaces, should be packed up and sent to her new home at Celle. We shall see how that order was carried out later.
On May 27 the Queen’s longing eyes were gladdened by the sight of the English squadron rounding the point off Elsinore. The Queen was at dinner when the guns at Kronborg saluted and the English ships answered back. She immediately ran out on the ramparts, and wept with joy at the sight of the British flag. Yet it was with mingled feelings that she beheld it, for the vessels which were to carry her away to liberty were also to carry her away from the child whom she dearly loved. The squadron consisted of the Southampton (Captain Macbride), the Seaford (Captain Davis), and the Cruiser (Captain Cummings). Keith, who had now said good-bye to Copenhagen to his great satisfaction, and had handed over the affairs of the legation to his secretary, was at Kronborg when the ships anchored off Elsinore. He at once went down to the harbour to meet Captain Macbride, and conduct him to the castle to have audience of the Queen.